Loup Égaré
by Kagome-Loves-Kouga
Summary: "Misplaced Wolf" Kit finds herself misplaced into a story she knows all too well after getting into an accident. Now she has a difficult choice in either letting things take their course or in doing as she wants and thinks is right. {OC!insert. Aware!OC. Possible Erik (Phantom)/OC.} WARNINGS: Rape, mental illness, abuse, language, sexual assault (more warnings inside).
1. Chapter 1

**Loup Égaré  
**

 **Authoress' Note:** Wellll. It has been a few years, actually, since I've written and posted anything. Think of it as a combination of working, getting in college, leaving college, life, and many other things. I've kept on writing, but for a long time I didn't want to post anything. I kind of got into a 'what's the point' type of funk I suppose. Ah, well. This story is my own take on a OC insert into the Phantom of the Opera universe. This is basically a simple kind of story to give me a bit of respite from some of the bigger more planned out fanfictions I've been working on as of late. Welp, out onto the internet this goes!

 **Rating:** M (For mentions of rape, sexual assault, violence, language, depression, mental illness, miscarriage/abortion/teenage pregnancy, abusive relationships. **If you have a trigger thing about sexual assault/rape, this isn't the story for you. turn back now.** )

* * *

Kit stared out at the black expanse of nighttime sky, a few stars barely breaking through the clouds. The scent of rain hung lightly in the air, the smells of the city being driven from her senses for once, though the strong tang of the sea still coated her nostrils and throat. Her parents had dragged her along with them to a big city in Florida with little warning.

Of course, she gave a soft and bitter laugh, it didn't matter. She was alone for the most part. Her few friends were too taken up with their own lives to bother with her or even send her a message through the internet or her cellphone. Not to mention the newest shitty thing, she had lost the job she had held for the past three years with no warning. Just handed a pink slip at the end of her last shift and told to leave.

She had cried for days, she had been so occupied with work she didn't know what else to do with her time. Kit was nothing if not a workaholic to her core, and it kept her mind off of what her life had become outside of it. If she was able to work, she was able to be content at least while clocked in. While she was at work memories and the present didn't matter and stayed away. So far no more job offers had popped up even with her enthusiastic searching, and it had left the redhead listless and feeling set adrift.

Now all she really could do was sit about, waiting.

She was so sick of waiting...

Sighing, she turned her gaze over to the unending flow of traffic below, her mind drifting to her fiancé. He was the one thing that didn't turn to shit with her involved and the reddish-eyed woman was constantly waiting for the hat to drop. He was a good man by some decent standards, by the name of Darren Wilkins.

He dealt in business, as did her father and now her mother as the older woman had decided to leave the nursing career path. He was always a gentleman and after six or seven months of lukewarm dates and chaste kisses he had asked Kit to marry him, though theirs would be a sort of short engagement. Finding while she was not overjoyed with his offer, she knew that at least with him she would have a secure future and she would be able to keep her heart guarded. He seemed fine with her standoffish and rather calm, cold demeanor she exhibited to him. With his work taking him all over the globe she was left to her own devices often which suited her need for quietness and alone time. With him she supposed she could at least be content with someone she could trust to not push her emotionally, who didn't ask about her past. He rather liked her mask of indifference and so let her be, her a pretty little ornament to his arm. A perfect pair to show at parties, with no fuss and no arguments.

With every person who congratulated her as they saw the extravagant band on her finger, her face grew stonier as she stifled any doubts she may have lingering in the back of her mind and numb heart. This arrangement suited her fine; while she was perfectly aware that the right thing to do would be to marry for love, she was too scared for herself to get hurt again.

No, Kit mused as she reclined against the building, her feet resting against the railing of the balcony, a lifetime of easy contentment was far better than chancing such pain and suffering again.

Darren had stayed behind in order to attend to business, which was fine by her. While they had been engaged for half a year now, just recently they had begun the planning. Or, in truth, he proposed things and she merely acquiesced to them. For easy contentment she knew it was best to hold her tongue, and truly she didn't care. Not about such innocent, simple things...not anymore. Once upon a time she would have been filled with delight at such preparations and at marrying such a handsome and pleasant man, but that was before she had been hurt so horribly. Whatever dress he picked for her to wear and how her hair should be arranged was of no consequence to her.

She couldn't see any stars now as the clouds covered them all up with impending rain.

Love and such fantasies were worthless in reality.

Sighing, Kit tore her eyes from the hypnotizing streaming lights of the busy city below and retreated into the small hotel room to retire for the night.

 **XxXxX**

Two weeks later she found herself brushing her hair, staring into a mirror as she got ready for a date with her fiancé. None of her usual habits were tolerated by the rather proper man, such as enjoying eating outdoors sitting beneath trees, her love for large portions of food or even of her love of fast food like french fries and hamburgers. Of course must of his strictness was attuned to being in the public eye and for meetings with others in business, but as he traveled often she would have time for her to breath and enjoy all of the things she would do without in his presence, so she did not mind it much.

She carefully pinned her waist-long dark red hair up into a sleek up-do. The rolled bun looked strange to her, as she preferred letting her hair free or tying it back in a simple tail. Her dress was modest, a light cream colour with a floral pattern of pink roses. Its sleeves, them slit to part and show a hint of her shoulders. It feel down below her knees and covered all of her cleavage, a cream and black belt holding it in at her tiny waist. Her low heels were black, and matched the clutch as well as her small black obsidian pendant falling just beneath the hollow of her throat. She put on light natural looking makeup, enough to enhance her features and give colour to her pale skin and draw attention to her amber eyes.

Glancing at the clock she took in a slow, deep calming breath. Closing her eyes she held it in as she counted to ten before she let it slip between her lips. It was time for her fiancé to pick her up at her parents home, and so she made her way from her room and walked down the stairs. Punctual as ever, Darren stood in the entrance way. He had a clean-shaven face and chestnut colored hair, his eyes a pale grey-blue. He was tanned and of an average height and build, though he worked out quite often so was well-muscled. Truly, the thirty-seven year old was average in the largest part of the sense, except for his prim manners and utter dedication to his rather old-fashioned sense of propriety. He smiled warmly at her and offered her his arm which Kit took politely.

"I will have her back no later than ten," he promised her mother, however superfluous it was. She was a woman of twenty-three, Perfectly old enough to stay out as long as she wished. The only reason she had not moved out was because there was no reason to, and now had no job. Though she truly didn't need a job with where her life was heading.

He escorted her to the car and soon they were on the silent drive to the altogether to an expensive restaurant. Once inside they were granted a table per their reservation, near the center of the room. Darren probably thought that, should anyone who he did business with happen to be here, they would see a beautiful young woman on his arm.

After a few minutes of perusing the menus, Darren smiled warmly at her and held her hand with her engagement ring gently on the table. "Would you like anything in particular, darling?"

"Why don't you order for me?" The words fell from Kit's lips so easily with practice. "There are so many choices and you always choose something I enjoy," she made herself smile at his nod. _'I hope he does not order something with so much tomato sauce...again,'_ she couldn't help but to think.

He called over the waiter and ordered her something ghastly light and feminine. She still smiled, but reminded herself, she did not need much to survive. Often, without her job and only music, art, and writing to occupy her time she forgot to eat. It usually took about 24 hours for her to begin to feel the hollowness of her stomach. She supposed that it kept her thin enough to look quite presentable to her husband-to-be and kept her looking dashing in the outfits her mother handed her to wear.

Eating the small salad and drinking the glass of water, she barely tasted it as Darren chattered about this or that for their wedding. What kinds of flowers, who would sit at what table, and other worthless drivel. When her main course arrived she felt her stomach turn slightly—pasta with a pool of red sauce and too little cheese grated atop it. She still forced it down and drank the water, listening to Darren talk over his meal of steak of who he wanted to be the flower girl. Apparently her mother had taken the liberty of contacting old female acquaintances of hers to be bridesmaids as well and he proposed the bridesmaids dresses be a soft pink.

"The wedding planner thinks it will look wonderful in the church," He smiled brightly.

"That is fine," she smiled towards him and patted her mouth politely with her napkin, though her attention was starting to wane. Kit had little patience for such things, especially to do with their wedding but she always focused on Darren as to not annoy him.

The water stopped by then and asked if either of them would like dessert. Kit gave a covert but longing glance at the "death by chocolate"-like dessert on the desert menu the waiter held but Darren waved him off with the hand that wasn't holding hers.

"Ah, no, we don't care for sweets. The check, please?" Her fiancé smiled a charming smile and the waiter beamed back before going to get the check.

Charming people to be well liked was something Kit knew well. Her previous job was in retail, it kept her very busy and she loved working with people. Her helpful nature was paramount to help customers and her sweet, kind disposition and seemingly endless patience had served her well. She was more herself at her job, but now all she had was the indifferent mask her husband-to-be somehow loved.

Or, at the very least, tolerated.

 **XxXxX**

It was a week before the wedding, and Kit was taking a quiet night to herself, away from the whirlwind of cake testing and guest inviting and other such wedding preparations. Her parents were both out of town on a business trip, finishing up things enough to make sure they would not be bothered on her wedding day. She sat on the couch in the living room and hummed along to a musical she had playing on Netflix as she crocheted a blanket aimlessly. The musical was the 25th Anniversary version of the Phantom Of The Opera at the Royal Albert Hall, one of her favorite versions of the musical. It helped calm her nerves, and she needed it more than ever as she found that the closer she got to being married to Darren the more anxious and high strung she became. She felt the mental strain get harder and harder to shove away, harder to ignore her buzzing doubt and the almost audible little voice in the back of her head going _"What the hell are you doing?!"_

Her mind drifted to one of the less favorable aspects of this marriage—the consummation. Darren had been clear he wanted their wedding night to be the first time they laid together. This was fine with Kit as it delayed the inevitable...Somehow opening her legs for her husband seemed better to her than to a boyfriend or even fiancé, even if all she did was lay there. The icy-eyed man seemed the type to not want to have to do more work than was necessary, and Kit would just want it to be over. _'At least it would be my choice then,_ _'_ She couldn't help but to think darkly.

Anything was preferable than having her being taken by force by someone who had no reason to stay or hurt her unduly. She shivered beneath the cold, unforgiving weight of her memories, trying to stave off the phantom sensations and blinking away the mental image of a rectangle of light too far away to reach in darkness.

Kit snapped from her reverie as she heard knocks at the door. "Now who could that be?" She murmured to herself s she sat her yarn and metal hook to the side before rising. She wore comfortable skinny jeans and a loose black t-shirt, her hair rolling down in loose waves down her back, her feet bare. Her favorite necklace rested on her neck, the simple chain long enough to rest the pendant just below the hollow of her throat. The small pendant was a piece of onyx with silver coloured metal around it, making it look as if the piece of black stone was the stomach of a cat.

The redhead reached the door and perked through the peephole to an odd sight; Darren was on the other side but he looked strangely...passionate? Alive? His eyes were too bright and his back wasn't ramrod straight. With the raging storm outside, he was also soaked to the bone and his hair, normally gelled and styled to perfection was wet and slightly disheveled. Glancing down to make sure her engagement ring was on, the redhead drew in a breath and opened the door.

"Darren, why are you here? It's getting kind of late and I'm sure your friends are missing you at your party," Kit's voice was soft but firm, even as Darren moved in a bit closer.

"I just missed you, and I wanted to see you," His voice held a tinge of something she couldn't name, and sounded a bit strange.

"Are you feeling okay?" She questioned. "Here, come in, I'll get you some water in the kitchen, and a towel," She turned without giving much thought and walked the short distance from the entrance to the kitchen, her mind drifting away as she got him a towel to drape about his broad shoulders and meandered to the cabinet and reached up to get a glass for her fiancé. _'Damn my height,_ She cursed inwardly, on her tip-toes and her fingertips just brushing the smooth glassware.

As she stretched the redhead didn't realize that the man in the room with her had come up behind her until she felt him pressing into her back as he effortlessly reached up and got a glass, slowly setting it on the counter to the side. Kit stood, stomach pressed into the counter and her fiancé pressing against her back

"Oh, ah...thank you," Kit swallowed thickly to keep herself from choking, a sour taste emanating from the back of her throat and a coldness beginning to form in the put if her stomach. Trying to ignore the alarm bells vaguely ringing in the back of her mind she went to the sink after he had moved, him hovering just a bit too long. Her shoulders stiffened as she began filling the glass. _'It's just my imagination. Darren isn't like that...'_

Ever so slowly she reached and turned off the faucet, taking a deep breath. A scent that she had never caught lingered around the brown haired man, and instinctively her stomach twisted. Darren leaned down and nestled his face in her hair, breathing in as his arms brought her closer. Kit's body began to shake and stiffened. "What...what are you doing?" She cursed her trembling, tiny voice.

"We get married next week, I've been patient for so... _so_ long," he muttered longingly, his words slurring together before he spun her around and bent her over the sink and crushed his mouth to hers, her arm flailing and d almost knocking the glass off of the counter.

Kit gave a shout of protest against the demanding kiss, struggling against Darren, but he had her body painfully pinned against the sink, the back of her head colliding with the faucet. Sickeningly she realized the strange scent and his behavior were because he was drunk, some fancy liquor she hadn't smelled before having disguised that fact. She pushed against his chest and managed to break their kiss. "Stop! S-stop, you're hurting me!" She cried out, her eyes closing and her feeling tears burn them, bile burning her throat. She choked as she felt his hardening length beneath his dark gray slacks.

"I've been patient but as you will be my wife, I won't feel guilty fucking you before we're married," the businessman grinned sloppily and hungrily down at her, eyes dark with lust. The redhead cried out in fear as he began grinding into her and grabbed a breast roughly.

 _'I feel like I'm dying,'_ She thought in a detached manner, feeling like she was being sucked away at Darren's onslaught, past and present blending together to create a horrid mash. She struggled and gave a scream as she broke free, sending the glass of water crashing to the floor. She tried to run, mind racing as scrambled a few steps before she was tackled to the ground clumsily.

Her scream for help ended in a gurgle as her breath was knocked out of her from the icy-eyed man's weight. He grinned, thinking his conquest was assured as his hands wandered freely. He made grunts and murmurs of satisfaction as he ripped her pants down. Kit felt her lips moving in senseless cries of terror and pleading as she felt him reach between her legs and roughly push two fingers into her.

"So warm and wet, you'll feel so good wrapped around my cock," he purred in her ear. Kit sobbed, a roar in her ears and her voice near hysterics as words poured from her—anything to make everything stop.

"No, no no, not again, not again, please no..." Kit blurted out, and she felt the man tense behind her and wrap a hand around her throat tightly. "Again?" He demanded coldly. "So you've spread your legs for someone else? My bride to be is damaged goods!" The brown-haired man snarled.

Kit shuddered and clawed at his hands as he applied pressure but after she scratched him with her long nails he hit her bluntly on the side of her head. Seeing stars, she was stunned and he took the opportunity to rip her underwear down now that she had ceased her struggling, unzipping his pants.

He began choking her as he pressed up against her. "Filthy slut," he growled as Kit's vision waned, greying around the edges and exploding with blue sparks. Her hands scrabbled against the tile desperately before she grasped something sharp but hard. Not caring that it dug deep into her hand and cut her flesh she brought it up and slammed it with all of her might into Darren's head.

She was released immediately with a loud cry of a curse, but she didn't tarry to catch her breath, blindly running from her house as she tugged her pants up, eyes wide and wild with fear. Her vision was blurred with tears, from her terror and pain, as well as raindrops from the torrential downpour of the storm outside. Darren was right on her heels, she felt and heard his angry stomps and grabs as she burst from her house but was able to slip through his fingers each time. Not able to see where she was going in her dash for escape her eyes were blinded by painfully bright light before she heard a blaring horn. Searing pain and impact stole away her consciousness before she even realized she had stumbled into the street...right in front of a car.

* * *

"Loup Égaré"- Misplaced Wolf

{*Made some minor edits 6-20-2015 as I found some wrong words. Ohhhh auto-correct.}


	2. Chapter 2

**Loup Égaré  
**

 **Authoress' Note:** I have a few chapters of this story written out. Since it's mainly about a character reacting to all of the events in POTO I'm not sure how long each chapter will be, but it's leaning towards shorter ones. **  
**

 **Rating:** M

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own POTO! (This story is kind of a mishmash between a few different versions, mainly Leroux and ALW.)

* * *

 _Drip... Drip... Drip..._

Kit groaned as she pried her eyes open, numb for a moment as she stared up at darkness. The blissful numbness was scorched from her mind as pain overtook her and her reddish brown eyes rolled into her head. Her entire body throbbed with agony for long minutes as she convulsed, hands scrabbling at the rough, damp floor. After it passed she sucked in breaths, the damp and cold air soothing her sweaty skin as her muscles twitched as if they were expecting more pain. Slowly, carefully, the redhead pushed herself up and looked around, her before burrowing her brow in confusion. She was an a cavern, a single lantern some ways away a small and dying light. Perhaps a tunnel? _'But...but the last thing I remember is—'_

Darren. His fingers on her... _in_ her. The sick smell of alcohol. Her escape, her fleeting him, gravel digging into her feet. The deafening horn and squeal of wet tires. The horrendous impact.

Pain exploding through her body.

Blood shining and mingling with rain on the asphalt as her ears rang...

A sputtering, wet groan faintly drifted over from her left and drew her attention as she swallowed her panic attack. "H-Hello?" She murmured hoarsely, her throat still raw from being choked and her screams. Trying to get shakily to her feet proved impossible, so she crawled towards the sound. The redhead kept her right hand very still, it still bleeding and glass still embedded in the flesh deeply. It wasn't long before she reached the lump of a person, picking up the lantern on the way.

"Hey, are you—Oh," she gasped, eyes widening in concern as mid-sentence she touched the person but pulled her hand away when she found it wet. In the light of the dying lantern she could see it wasn't water—it was blood.

Kit swallowed thickly but instinctively began peeling back the black cloak surrounding the figure to reveal a bloody once-white shirt under a suit jacket. Looking the man over quickly she noted dully that he was in a fancy old-fashioned suit and cloak as well as a white mask on his face. _'Maybe he was at a costume party or something? How did we get here...?'_ Not caring for the masked man's clothes she moved the jacket and tore the white shirt open instead of undoing the insane amount of buttons, noticing a round hole in his flesh that seeped blood. The injury was on his lower stomach on his right side.

 _'A...a bullet wound. How do I treat a bullet wound again...?'_ Kit swallowed thickly, her left hand trembling as she forced herself to put her palm by the mans mouth. Her mind raced but there were small puffs of of breaths ghosting against her palm. His eyes barely cracked open and he murmured something unintelligible before they slid shut. Turning her gaze to the wound as her fingers pressed against his throat to check for a pulse she took in a shaky breath.

 _'Calm. Calm the fuck down. The calmer you are the more chance this guy has.'_ Her inward harsh chiding snapped her from panicking and she felt a cool layer of concentration stifle any detrimental emotions as her brain flipped into what she called her crisis mode.

She gathered up a was of his soaked cloak and pressed it tight against the hole, the figure giving a hiss of pain. "Shhh, shh. I know it hurts. Can you talk?" Her voice was calm, which was surprising to Kit. Her mother had once told her, _"Keep yourself calm in a crisis. If you are calm others are more likely to follow suit, and panic can cost lives."_ back in when she had been a nurse, and it seemed the lesson had stuck.

"Who...it hurts..." the thick, slurred words came.

"Good, good, now try to move your hands and your feet," The redhead held her breath for a few minutes as the man grasped his fingers slowly and weakly, then moved his arms and his legs even if a bit. Relief flooded her, as this meant that there was no deformity or disability suffered by the spinal cord which was imperative to getting him moved; she needed warmth and clean water to have a chance to recover and to wash his wounds. "That's great, now come on, I need you to move, so I can see if there's an exit wound," the man groaned and whimpered as Kit rolled him a bit and pulled his ruined shirt out of his pants. There was a small round hole on his back, and it hasn't appeared to hit anything vital from what she could tell, though she could only wait and see.

Now she just needed to get his wounds cleaned and control the bleeding...taking the ruined shirt she tore strips from the less saturated parts and pressed a wad against the exit wound, tearing a strip off of his cloak's bottom and slipping the four inch thick strip underneath the wad and slipping it under the man's side before she let him rest on his back. She pressed another wad of ruined white shirt against the entry site and brought the strip of black fabric up to tie the wads of material closely. Until she could find something else, it would have to do.

 _'I need to get him up and out of this cold tunnel. Can I even get up?'_ Kit wondered before she crawled over near to the wall and grabbed onto the uneven surface, trying to hoist herself up. The lantern began to flicker and sputter out when she got about halfway up, turning her determination into fear as she watched her only light source hang on for a second before extinguishing itself and leaving her and the injured man in complete darkness.

Lurching from the wall instinctively to try to get to the light to try to see if she could fumble the lantern back to being lit up Kit's ankle twisted, her body too weak to support her weight. Crashing to the ground, she felt a sharp pain on the left side of her head before the darkness of the strange place she found herself in was replaced seamlessly with unconsciousness.

 **XxXxX**

Kit's eyes snapped open and she gave a soft gasp of pain as she felt something sharp being pulled out of her right hand. She tried pulling it away but found someone's hand holding her limb still easily in her weakened state. She blinked several times to focus her vision, hissing low in her throat as a particularly big piece was pulled out. The man who held her hand was hunched over it slightly, eyes narrowed in concentration as he used tweezers to grasp another sliver of glass. He wore a white mask over half of his face and was in fancy clothes—the same man that she had been helping before she had knocked herself out again. She felt a familiarity to this man though certainly before she treated his wound they had never met.

"Who are you...?" She murmured, her throat on fire and her voice raspy.

The man was silent for a long while, then he moved his gaze up to her eyes. Kit sucked in a sharp breath—his eyes were a golden brown, full of intelligence and beautiful. "You may call me Monsieur Phantom." He spoke after a long while, before returning to his task of treating her hand.

"My name is Kit...Kit Masagobi." The redhead added after a long moment of him extracting another sliver of glass. "Where are we?"

"In my home." He spoke languidly before depositing the last piece of glass onto a rag he had laid out on the bedspread. "Flex your hand, see if you feel any more glass." He instructed, and she did so. Palpitating it with her other hand she found only the pain of the lacerations.

"You got it all...Thank you." Kit's voice was warm.

"You helped me, Mademoiselle Masagobi, so it is only fair I help you." Kit pulled a face at that.

"Please, call me Kit. What is your first name, Monsieur?" She smiled up at him, to which he blinked. He gave an expression halfway caught between utter confusion and surprise as he stared at her.

"...Erik." He spoke after a long moment of gathering up the rag and setting it to the side, before cleaning and disinfecting her hand. "My name is Erik."

Kit stiffened in shock, and the connections burned brightly in her mind. _'There...There is no way. Surely there are many Erik's who wear half masks and old-fashioned dress clothes!'_ She laughed nervously in utter denial, her uninjured hand pulling through her side-swept bangs.

"How did you know how to treat my wound?" Erik asked after a moment, his curiosity breaking through.

She swallowed thickly. "A-Ah... My mother. She used to be a nurse, and she would study around me a lot when I was younger. I like reading about medical things as well." She stammered, her voice small as he finished bandaging her hand and stepped away.

"Tell me, Mademoiselle, how you came to be here?"

Kit began to say that she wasn't sure but her breath caught in her throat at the assaulting memories. She didn't realize she had frozen until Erik shook her shoulder roughly. "I-I-I..." A rough swallow. "I'm not sure how I got _here_ exactly. The last thing I remember is running... and getting in an accident on a road."

He gave her a questioning look. "Why were you running?"

Her throat slammed shut on her but she gave a choking swallow, taking a deep breath. _'I need to man the fuck up.'_ She chided herself harshly. "I was running..." She spoke hesitantly. "From...someone."

"From your fiancé?" She jerked in surprise and he raised his visible eyebrow at her. "You have an engagement ring on..."

Kit's mouth dried out as her eyes slid down. That horrible man's ring was on her finger, glittering in the candlelight. To anyone's eyes but hers it would look innocent and beautiful, but to her it looked like poison sitting upon her finger.

He watched, stunned, as she moved faster than she should with the state of her body and reached with her injured right hand, pulling the ring off her left ring finger before hurling it across the room in a state of panic.

His eyes followed the ring as it skittered behind a dresser, tiny _tings_ accompanying it, then slowly looked back to her. "Mademoiselle?" He questioned in alarm, seeing her covering her eyes with her hands.

"I'll be okay. I'll be fine. Just... I don't want to talk about it. Please, not right now," She begged in a soft, low tone.

He sat there for another minute, staring at her, before standing and leaving the room without another word.

 _'I will not cry... I will not...'_ Kit gave up the futile fight with a quiet involuntary sob, her fresh mental wounds opening up the barely half healed ones already in her memory and mind and began crying as quietly as she could, biting her tongue so she made no noise. It was a long time later that she fell asleep, exhausted from her tears and emotions exploding from her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Loup Égaré  
**

 **Authoress' Note:** It's a little later than I thought it would be but life kind of swooped in. Oops?

 **Rating: ** M (Warnings in first chapter)

 **Disclaimer: ** I do not own POTO.

* * *

The phantom returned awhile later, finding his new house guest in an exhausted sleep, tear stains heavily laid down her cheeks. She had cried for a long time, it seemed. The curious redhead in the strange clothes did not look as if she was sleeping restfully, with her twitches and her brow furrowed deeply.

His eyes swept across what injuries he could see.

First of all—her hand. It had taken a long time to tend to it, many slivers of clear glass punctured deep within it. He was only glad she had been unconscious for most of it, otherwise it would have hurt her quite a bit. Her head was bruised on the left side, on her cheek clear down to her chin, like she had been hit forcefully. _'She probably has...'_ He thought darkly. She had a bruise and small cut on the temple of her left side, leading into her hairline. He surmised that had been from the blow that had knocked her unconscious after she had tended to him—Erik guessed the woman had tried to get up with her body too weak to do so, and had fallen onto the uneven ground.

She shifted in her sleep, wheezing slightly, and he felt sympathy for the redhead, seeing the dark hand print emblazoned upon her small, pale throat. The way she was laying, it was clear the rest of her body was in pain even in sleep. Reaching over, his hand had barely touched her shoulder when she jerked awake, reddish eyes wide and immediately scrambling away. Seeing it was the masked man she relaxed, even if only a bit.

"S...Sorry. I normally control myself a lot better." She spoke quietly, straining to sit up a bit more as he deposited a tray onto her lap carefully. It held simple broth, some bread, a bit of cheese, a cup of tea and some cubes of sugar off to the side.

He didn't reply, merely staring at her for a moment before retreating from the room. Before he left the room completely she spoke.

"Monsieur Phantom?" He turned his head back to her, hand resting on the door frame. He twitched as she gave a smile. "Thank you."

After a long moment of internal debate, Erik gave a slow nod before he left the room.

After Kit had eaten, taking delight in the simple food and enjoying her very sweet tea, the masked man knocked before entering and coming close to the bed to gather up the tray and dirtied dishes.

The redhead bit at her lip, her eyes wandering down to where she knew his wound lay without thinking. "Did you clean it?" The question burst out of her, startling him. "Er...The wound. Did you clean it?" She cursed herself for her impulsive chattering—she knew that most people liked her to be quiet, to sit there and merely look pretty. She had gotten quite good at it in the past few years—perhaps the blow to her head had affected her more than she thought?

"...Yes..." He said hesitantly, golden-brown eyes staring into hers for a second. "Are you feeling any pain in any particular area?"

"My face," The redhead spoke after a moment, hand vaguely gesturing to where the bruises and cut lay. "Though that's to be expected. A slight headache. My whole body hurts a little but it's bearable..." She demurred softly as she folded her hands on her lap, her wrapped hand being held carefully.

Erik paused, taking that in and quiet for a good few moments before he seemed to decide on speaking again. "Would you like to bathe? I can also find you some clothes to change into," He added the last bit, seeing her about to interject with a question.

"If...If that is all right then I would like to take a bath. Thank you, Monsieur Phantom." She dipped her head politely. She went to get out of bed and he came over to be ready to catch her, though she forced herself up and to remain standing. She swayed but gritted her teeth and waved off his offer of support. She went to take a step but gritted back a cry of pain radiating from her left leg, grabbing onto the post of the bed and squeezing her eyes shut as her world spun from the sudden shock of nauseating pain.

"Mademoiselle?" The masked man toned cautiously and curiously

She was silent, collecting herself and getting the room to stop spinning. She silently waved him off and then hooked her left foot around a leg of the bed. He took a step and opened his mouth to tell her to stop as she wrenched her foot and leg with a sharp turn of her body, an audible pop able to be heard from her hip. Her nails dug into the wood of the post she clung to but after the pain flaring up from her leg dulled she seemed to relax.

"My hip on that side gets dislocated sometimes," She explained at his stunned look. "I must've wrenched it out earlier, or something. All I have to do is pop it back in, and a few days later it'll be right as rain." He blinked at her before turning and leading her from the room, trying not to look at her in her strange clothes that showed the shape of her body far too much for his comfort. He got them to the bathroom and let her go in ahead of him, closing the door behind her without a word, retreating quickly to get his guest clothes.

The redhead looked around the bathroom, surprised to find it extremely tidy and also very fancily decorated in an old-time fashion as well, fitting well with how the man dressed and the rich Persian runner rug that she had walked over in the small hallway. The tub had large clawed feet, the floor tiled in a cream colour, the walls wall-papered in an ornate green pattern Kit vaguely remembered her mother had once praised as a popular Victorian choice for home decorating.

 _'I must be dealing with quite an eccentric man,'_ She couldn't help to think as she turned on the water. _'But at least he's a kind and nice eccentric man. I'm just glad with how old-fashioned he seems to like things that he has running hot water!'_

Kit had quickly gotten her dirty clothes off and submerged herself in the steaming hot water, hissing at the heat before she grew accustomed to it. Careful to keep her wrapped hand from the water she began washing herself, the carefully controlled actions soon devolving into rough, scratching and desperate motions. Kit had soon scrubbed her skin until it was pink and streaked red all over with the washcloth that had been laid on the faucet and the bar of soap on the lip of the tub, her nails catching her flesh in her haste.

" _ **Stop it,"**_ A little voice growled, almost sounding irritated, in the back of her mind. _**"You're just hurting us. You know you can never truly get**_ _ **their**_ _ **touch off of you, not with the hottest water, not if you scrub until you bleed..."**_

The woman's hands stopped abruptly, startled. Kit bit at her lip but swiftly ignored the voice and it's existence, beginning to move again and scrub more gently, trying to forget and lose herself in the soothing hot water. She had opted to keep her hair dry, not seeing any shampoo and conditioner, and had tied it up into a messy bun on the top of her head with the black elastic she had thankfully had on her wrist. Sinking into the water until her nose was just barely peeking out enough for her to breathe she closed her eyes, the only sound in the room of her breathing and the soft, slow lap of water as she would shift to get a little more comfortable.

A sudden knock at the door had her sit up quickly, hands covering her chest. "I ah... I brought you some clothes. I'm going to leave them right outside the door... I'll be in the drawing room, but if you need help just call for me," The masked man's voice came through the thick dark wooden door, muffled slightly. She could hear the cushioned steps quickly go away to the left, and resolved to reluctantly pull herself from the bath.

Her amber orbs took in the raisin-like look the pads of her fingers had taken. _'How long was I in there, exactly?'_ Kit wondered as she dried herself off with a fluffy sage green towel that she had placed on the ground by the tub for her use. After she was dried she wrapped the large piece of fabric around herself and crept to the door, peeking out and seeing some brown-paper wrapped packages. After a quick glance around she reached out and picked them up, closing the door quickly. The last thing she wanted was for her host to see her with only a towel wrapped around her form.

Kit felt a brow quirk as she looked closely at the much larger than expected packages, and untied the twine securing the wrapping closed. Opening the parcels she felt her eyebrows rise up to her hairline, her thoughts screeching to a halt at the garments inside. "A corset? Are you kidding me?" She spoke aloud, incredulous. She had nothing else to wear and her old clothes were absolutely filthy, so she resigned herself to the old-fashioned clothes. _'Maybe he is a tad more eccentric than I first thought.'_

In the packages she found a full set of Victorian-age clothes, underwear included. "Nope. I am not wearing that!" She declared to herself at the corset in the package. The redhead reached for her bra, wanting it's usual support and comfort instead of the stiff garment she had been given. She was going through the usual motions of putting it on, beginning to pull up the strap when— _snap._ Blinking slowly she pulled it away, she wanted to find a brick wall to beat her head into. She glared down at the old and worn comfortable pink bra. _'Okay, does the universe hate me or something?'_

Kit tried to remember the vague mentions her mother had made on how everything worked and was layered, managing to get the plain chemise on as well as the mid-calf length drawers underneath. She glared at the plain, rather simple corset. She had learned how to put one on and take one off for her wedding, but that had been a very modernized version that was way, way easier than the old-fashioned types. She sighed and guessed at her measurements as she tugged at the laces at the back of the fabric before she wrapped it around her, hooking it together in the front and settling it properly before reaching behind herself and pulling at the laces, trying not to give up in frustration and rip the damn thing off.

She needed to wear something to constrict her bosom—she blushed at the thought of going anywhere near the masked man with her large breasts unsupported or at least held in place, tugging at the laces with a renewed vigor. Soon the corset was fit snugly enough to not shift along her form, but she refused to tie it any tighter; she still wanted to be able to breathe!

There were two petticoats, one having a scalloped design like the plain drawers and the other rather plain—Kit guessed the plain one was the under-petticoat, the decorated one the over-petticoat. She glanced at the dress she had been given, holding the light blue fabric against her. "Dammit," Kit couldn't help but to grumble. She'd have to wear the petticoats in order to not have the hem be way too long, with how the dress was made. Eventually she ended up getting everything on and tugged at it, pulling a face as she shifted. _'Way too many layers...but it is chilly down here,'_ She sighed and bent as best she could, gathering up all of her dirtied clothes. _'Maybe he has some thread and a needle, I can try to fix my bra, maybe.'_ She could only hope. She had just finished tying on the bustle cushion and was fighting the dress over her head when there was a knock at the door.

"Are you all right? You've been in there for quite awhile..." He had a hint of concern to his voice.

"Yeah," Kit knew her voice sounded slightly strangled as she tugged at the dress, brows furrowed as she fought with the blue material. "Fuckin'... dress," She hissed under her breath, finally getting the heavy material over her head, straightening it around her form. It dragged a little on the ground, but at least it wouldn't trip her. The long sleeves were loose until the cuffs which were a little big and loose, and it had a striped pattern in grey, the blue a more bluish-grey now that she really looked at it. The front of the simple dress looked more fan-shaped and there was a slight faux-bustle on the back. _'This looks like it's from the really late Victorian era...'_ She guessed, still tugging at it as she opened the door. She found the hallway empty and headed down to the door that opened up into the living room area.

"I win," The redhead drawled, going over and plopping down on the couch. "Thank you for the clothes, Erik." The masked man gave a quiet nod, staring at her but not speaking. Kit couldn't keep her confusion and curiosity contained and the words slipped out before she could stop them. "But... wouldn't it have been easier to give me some pants, or jeans?" Kit was still really confused. "I mean, who has this old fashioned stuff laying around?"

"What? No, it's improper for a lady to wear trousers," the masked man seemed very confused as well. "That dress is only a year or so old..."

Kit's eyebrows rose into her hairline as her brain screeched to a halt. _'There is no way. No. This is not happening.'_ "Monsieur Phantom," She started slowly. "...What year is it?"

"It's the year 1894, in the middle of June..." Erik spoke, his visible face twisted in confusion, looking her over closely. The well-dressed phantom leaned over and peered intensely at her head. "Maybe you hit your head harder than I initially estimated..."

Kit's world began to spin as she looked around, noting how positively new all of the items looked, his clothing, the old-fashioned bandages, the technology in the bathroom, and then the floor itself. It really clicked when she remembered the rough almost carved rock floor of the cavern she had woken up in. She stood up, frantically looking around, startling the masked man. _'So he's...Actually...THE phantom?'_

Pain started throbbing all over her body, starting in her left arm and leg, but quickly spreading along her nerves. It was agony, hot, burning away her thoughts and panic at the impossible situation she found herself in. _'W...What is that...noise...?'_ Immediately following that thought she realized it was her screaming, the noise echoing and rebounding in her head, a metallic ringing starting and overtaking it

Briefly she wondered when the room had turned on it's side and the masked man had learned how to walk on walls as she saw him come closer before a new wave of fiery torture rushed over her mind, her body convulsing and trying to escape the pain scrabbling along her senses.

Barely, she could feel the pressure of hands grasping at her shoulders and heard a faint loud sound. Peeling her eyes open as tears ran from them she could see the blurry sight of a half-masked face yelling and concerned golden brown orbs before another wave hit her. Her reddish brown orbs rolled back into her head before the soothing blackness overtook her mind again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Loup Égaré  
**

 **Authoress' Note:** I finally got to a place where I could end this chapter and have it be a decent length. I was originally going to start on the actual plot of POTO but found the chapter to be really bloated at that point. I'll most likely start on the main plot in the next chapter. If you guys have any suggestions, I would like to see them in any reviews _—_ who knows, I might even put the ideas in. Speaking of: You are all leaving such wonderful reviews! I'm surprised and quite pleased that people are liking my story.

 **Rating:** M (Warnings in first chapter)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own POTO.

* * *

 _...Beep..._

 _...Beep..._

 _...Beep..._

 _...Beep..._

 _'That noise is really...really annoying,'_ Kit thought, trying to peel open her eyes. She found she couldn't, them feeling like they were glued shut. Her body felt heavy and numb, though her left arm and leg felt like they were bundled up tight. She could feel an edge of pain all over her body but it was through a haze.

 _'I must have a bunch of painkillers in me or something...am...am I in a hospital?'_

The ever constant beeping sounded like a heart monitor. Trying not to panic as she couldn't move she focused on what she could hear, muffled voices and a pressure curled around her hand.

"Sir...Test result...Broken ar...eg...no idea...still un...ay wake up...ny time..."

The voice fluttered in and out of clarity. She fought hard to open her eyes but found it futile. Kit couldn't tell how much longer later of hearing muffled voices and her struggling that the beeping started to pick up, but the pressure on her hand was removed instantly, pressure in various places on her body. Vaguely she could feel a burning sensation in her arm by her elbow but her senses flickered, her terrified as she was losing the little sensation she had, the emptiness and nothingness pressing in on her.

 _'No...Please—!'_

 _ **XxXxX**_

The next thing she knew, she felt something cold on her forehead, little trickles of water running down the sides of her face. "Wha..." She mumbled, her throat scratchy, her tongue feeling dry and clumsy in her mouth.

"You started convulsing and screaming in pain...You've been unconscious for the better part of an hour." The familiar voice and blur of white in her fuzzy vision brought back clarity, her blinking to focus her eyes.

"Erik?" Her voice was a raspy murmur, her mind drifting back to the strange dream, it slipping through her fingers like sand. _'What...What was that about? Beeping...and a pressure on my hand...? no, it's gone.'_ It nagged at her in the back of her mind, almost as if there was something important she had forgotten.

"You're all right now... I believe..." He spoke hesitantly, concern in his eyes.

This woman was different. While she was very strange, she didn't pester him with questions about himself, and didn't really stare at his mask. _'That's because she hasn't seen the horror beneath,'_ He couldn't help that dark, sad thought, trying to not get his hopes up, to find someone who would treat him like any other man.

Even his dear Christine thought he was an Angel of Music...not a mere mortal man.

"C...Can I have some water?" She rasped, still having a jelly-like, numb feeling in her limbs. "I don't think I should try to walk..."

"Of course, hold on..." He got up from his spot beside the couch, only slightly pained from his own wound. He had been shot before, and much more severely—this was nearer to a graze, and had been a mercifully clean shot. If he hadn't been feeling weak from a cold, which is why he had wandered out in the first place, he would have been able to make it the rest of the way to his home. He was ever grateful to the redhead because without her he would have probably either bled out while he was unconscious and fevered, or taken a long, long time to recover. He returned with a cup of water and helped her lean up and drink it, as her hand's grip was far too shaky to keep the glass from falling.

"Thank you," She smiled gratefully, though she still looked pale, the dark smudges beneath her eyes darker.

"It is no problem...Do you have those...episodes...often?" Erik asked, helping her sit up slowly to make sure she wouldn't pass out.

"Well...No. I never did before I woke up in that cavern... I've only had one more like that, before I found you in there." Kit bit at her lip as she thought. "Maybe the hit to my head is causing some light swelling in my brain, pressing on part of it and causing that..." The redhead trailed off, seeing his thoughtful look. _'If this is the year 1894 I'll have to be careful about what I say... unless this is a dream. It might be...But if it's not, I can't let too much slip. An inquisitive mind like his would latch onto it all, and if he knew I knew what was going to happen...'_ She couldn't help the sadness that squeezed her heart. _'He's going to do some crazy things for love. I mean, he's crazy, sure, but driven mad by love he's a lot more dangerous, and then he gets his heart broken...I wonder if he's more Leroux or more Webber...Maybe even Kay? He only has a half mask so I'm guessing more Webber.'_ Her mind swirled with thoughts.

"...ello? Mademoiselle?" Her host's voice broke through her deep thoughts.

"Oh, sorry," She gave an apologetic smile.

"I was worried, you weren't acting like you were hearing or seeing me..."

Kit opened her mouth to respond when her stomach gave a loud, gurgling growl. She flushed at the rather unladylike noise and glanced down to her stomach. _'Why am I hungry? I usually don't eat much at all...'_

"Are you hungry?" Erik's golden brown eyes had a glint in them and his lips were twisted lightly with amusement.

"Maybe. You know, it's a possibility," Kit joked, him relaxing.

"I'll be right back. Don't try to get up, I'll be going...somewhere...and I don't want you to fall and get hurt without me here."

Kit gave a nod, him going to leave when her eyes caught a collection of Poe on a table across the room, next to his seemingly normal seat. "M...Monsieur Phantom?" She blurted out before he left.

"Yes Mademoiselle?" He turned his head back to her, hand resting on the door frame.

"Can...Can you hand me that book of Poe's works?" The redhead asked, feeling flustered for her sudden outburst. "I don't want to be bored with you gone."

He eyed her carefully, retrieving the book and handing it to her. "You enjoy Poe's prose and poetry?" He asked, curiosity lighting up his eyes.

Kit nodded, brightening. "Very much so! _The Telltale Heart, Masque of the Red Death, For Annie, The Raven, The Lake: To _, The Black Cat, The Cask of Amontillado, the Pit and the Pendulum_..." Kit trailed off, her cheeks tinted pink as she realized she had gotten too excited and had begun rambling, opening the book and looking over the table of contents to distract herself from her embarrassment.

Erik's eyes looked her over closely, finding he had a new appreciation for his house guest's strangeness. "Enjoy, then," His lips curled in amusement as he turned and left.

 _'He's probably going up to the kitchens of the Opera,'_ Kit hummed to herself, shifting on the couch as she brought the book more onto her lap, now actually reading the book of contents. _'I wonder if I'll be able to persuade him to let me go up there, if I don't have another episode like this.'_ The redhead shuddered, flipping to _For Annie_ , burying her thoughts in the familiar words.

The distraction didn't work for long, as her thoughts drifted to her predicament. _'How on earth should I react?'_ Her fingers traced over the page, the feel of paper beneath her fingertips comforting and familiar, her eyes staring at the black printed words but not reading them. _'I should just let things be. I know what to stay away from in order to stay safe...even if this might just be a dream or delusion I don't want to get hurt or die. Why...for what reason would I even be here?'_

Kit bit at her lip, picking up the thick page and running her fingertip carefully along the edge. _'Although that pain from earlier... Usually in dreams you don't feel pain like that.'_ She let the page drop back down and absently smoothed her skirt as her thoughts wandered. ' _I could try to make things better for Erik. I could try to help him...I could at least be his friend. I don't know...there's just something different about him—before I really knew he was_ the _Phantom I felt...drawn to him. I guess I'll just go with the flow and if I see an opportunity to make things better I will.'_ The redhead nodded to herself and pulled her legs and bare feet up onto the couch, sinking down with relief against the arm of the sofa.

Kit rested the thick book onto her knees and flipped to _The Black Cat_ , her buzzing thoughts calming down for a little while as she began devouring the words with a smile of fond remembrance on her lips at the tale printed onto the pages.

She didn't know how long it had been later, engrossed in the book and starting to read _The Oblong Box_.

 _...There is a countenance which haunts me, turn as I will. There is an hysterical laugh which will forever ring in my ears..._ **{1}**

Kit was reminded of things that would forever haunt her, jumping as a shadow fell over her. She closed the book and drew it close to her chest defensively as her head turned—and she gave a sigh of relief. "Hello Monsieur Phantom," She greeted.

"Comfortable?" He asked, a slight smile of amusement on his lips at her position.

"Oh, quite." She grinned slightly back.

"Not very ladylike, however," His voice was light, eyes glittering with amusement as he let some humor show, but it hit Kit sharply. It twisted into a harsher, more judgmental tone in her ears. She pulled herself up and folded her hands in her lap, the book to the side of her legs.

 _Darren's dissapointed voice ghosted over her mind. She half felt like she was sitting with him in his home again, her legs crossed as she relaxed and crocheted. "Now my dear, that isn't very ladylike..." A feather-light tone with a lurking edge._

"I'm sorry..." She spoke softly. Even though she knew it was irrational she couldn't help the reflexive feelings that he was angry at her. "I will watch my behavior from now on."

The masked man was slightly stunned at the sudden shift in his house guest. Her eyes were on the floor, tinged with shame and even a bit of fear.

"Mademoiselle," Erik began, attempting to draw her attention from the ground. "Your behavior has so far been adequate. You may react and act as you wish to."

Kit slowly peeled her eyes from the floor, and though she couldn't raise them to his eyes, it was a start. "Okay, Monsieur." The redhead whispered, her stomach giving another quite loud growl.

"Ah, the food. I've already prepared some soup...Do you feel well enough to walk?"

Kit worried at her lip before she began easing herself from the sofa, him holding his arm out to her as she straightened and wobbled. She tested out her legs, her limbs feeling rather weak. "I should be fine." She gave what she hoped was a reassuring look to him.

Erik gave a quiet nod as he led her to the dining room, watching her carefully as she rested a hand on the wall, never straying far as he saw the trembles in her limbs. The redhead gritted her teeth and pushed through it, not willing to bother her host any more than she had to.

* * *

 **{1} = Excerpt from** _ **The Oblong Box**_ **by Edgar Allan Poe.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Loup Égaré  
**

 **Authoress' Note:** I realize it has been a long time since I updated this story, but I eventually got busy-two jobs, new pets, and got writers block. I've finally begun working on this again as well as writing down a timeline and events that I want to occur. Thank you for your patience.

 **Rating:** M (See warnings in first chapter) **  
**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own POTO.

* * *

After they went into the dining room, the half-masked man directed her to sit at one end of the table as he retreated to the other. There were bowls of simple soup waiting there, still steaming, along with some bread and cheese. There was a cup of tea along with a few sugar cubes waiting on her side as well.

Kit watched her host sit down carefully, him wincing and putting a hand to where his wound was. She hadn't seen him without him being wounded, but could guess because of his subterranean lifestyle that he was rather pale normally—though now that her attention had been brought back to his injury, she could see he was masking his pain. He was doing so quite well, but if one chose to look closely it could be seen. "Do you want me to check it and help you clean it?"

He gave a stiff shake of his head. "I can manage." His voice was sharp.

Kit flinched slightly but gave a frown, her initial knee-jerk reaction to back off and leave him alone quickly overcome by her concern. "Monsieur Phantom, I insist. The placement of the wound will make it harder for you to clean and maintain properly."

The edge heard in the redhead's voice surprised her host, but when he looked at her his eyebrow tweaked as he saw she looked a little surprised at it as well. Her eyes had raised to meet his golden brown ones, and she stared with a mix of determination and what seemed to be pleading.

He could only take a few moments of her stare before he felt his resistance crumble and he looked down to his food.

"...After dinner, if you feel well enough to." He acquiesced, caught between being bothered at her insistence and feeling oddly touched at it. So very few people had actually cared about his wounds in the past—he had fully expected the redhead to leave things be and to let him care for his wound as he wished.

 **XxXxX**

Around two weeks later Kit woke up and carefully shifted in her bed, gingerly placing her feet on the floor and testing her legs out. She gave a relieved sigh, her reddish eyes closing briefly in relief. _'I feel much stronger today, and I don't have that twisting feeling in my gut...'_ She had felt very weak in the past days. She had gotten out of bed more than her host had wanted her to, her stubbornness shining through. She refused to be more of a burden than she could help, but the half-masked man offered his assistance when she needed it—not always when she wanted it.

She had helped him tend to his wound although he had been incredibly stubborn. He had been seeing to it while she had been recovering, and had it packed and bound correctly, though she still insisted on seeing it and checking it when she was strong enough. He had packed it along with some herbs that kept the infection to a minimum—something he had picked up along his travels. Erik was surprised when she didn't question what the herbs were past simple curiosity before she moved on. It was healing quite well.

Kit's wounds were healing at a steady pace, the bruises faded away and her hand not having to be wrapped all the time anymore. She really only had the hand wrapped when she would be using it, to protect the still fragile scar tissue. The redhead traced her fingertips over the still reddened lines on her right hand gently, testing out the sensitivity of the skin and pulling her finger away quickly. _'Still pretty tender. Ah, well.'_ She reached to the foot-board of the bed and pulled on the light blue wrapper that she had become accustomed to wearing when she was up and about.

Kit was just thankful for it's presence—it and the loose nightgown was enough to hide the lack of undergarments beneath the thicker fabric so she didn't feel self-conscious. It also kept her warm enough until she either had to get back into bed in the case of weakness or another episode, or until she gave up and dressed herself in the many layers of the everyday Victorian-style dress that her host had given her.

 _'It should be...ah, I don't know what time it could be. I assume early, otherwise he would have woken me with breakfast.'_ Kit felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment—she hated the fact that her host had cared for her in her weaker moments, especially when she was confined to her bed. _'But first—bathroom. Then kitchen.'_

After she had used the facilities, brushed her hair, washed her face and done the best she could with her teeth she padded along the hallway to the kitchen, poking her head inside. Her footsteps were quiet, almost silent against the carpets that covered the cold tile and stone floor. "Morning," She greeted the masked man who was currently cooking something on the stove.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle." He tilted his head to her, eyes alight with the surprise of seeing her up, as well as his gladness at the fact. He had grown accustomed to seeing her in the morning wrap he'd provided, especially since she had rarely had the energy to get dressed properly and be up for hours. The redhead had begun to read his small cues on how he was feeling, his eyes being more expressive than she had thought they would have been.

"How did you sleep?" She inquired politely, frowning when he directed her to sit at the table. Stubbornly, she went to the cabinet and the flatware drawer and got out what they would need, him giving a sigh but giving into the fact she wasn't going to rest quite yet.

"Adequately enough. You have more colour in your face today, you look much healthier." He observed, plating the simple breakfast and putting the plates at the table after blowing out the light on the stove.

"I feel a lot stronger," She said softly. "Actually, I'm feeling quite restless. I'm getting tired of just wandering around here or being stuck in bed." She took her place at the table and smiled at the food, her mouth watering. "Thank you, Monsieur."

The meal passed in comfortable silence, though Kit kept feeling thoughts nag at her brain. _'I wonder if he would let me walk through some of the passages with him when he leaves to watch the practice upstairs... I wonder what opera they're currently working on?'_ She bit at her lip, him taking their empty plates and insisting she stay seated.

"Monsieur Phantom..." Kit's voice was soft. _'What harm could be in asking?'_ Her reddish eyes caught his golden brown ones, him turning his head at the wash basin, and she felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment as she felt her words get caught in her throat. "Uh...Er..." She cleared her throat. "I was wondering... when you go wherever you go when you leave here may...may I come with you?" The redhead winced, her voice dwindling and growing smaller and weaker as her inquiry went on.

"Mademoiselle," Erik had a slight frown on his face, his eyes gaining an unreadable look.

"Please, I want to move around. I feel much better, and I feel like fresh air will make me feel even better. If I start feeling bad or I feel an episode coming on I'll tell you, okay?...Please?" Her eyes pleaded with his.

"I..." Erik hesitated, seeing the look on the redhead's face, and he tried not to let his bitterness show. _'She is a creature of sunlight, not like my old carcass, damned to hide beneath the living world above...She will run once she gets out of here,'_ He frowned at the last thought. Kit didn't seem like she would ever run—never had, and had never looked at him strangely. _'Besides...if she wishes to run free there is not much I can do to make her remain here.'_ He sighed. "All right, Mademoiselle. But if you begin to feel unwell tell me as quickly as possible so that we may return in case you have another one of your...episodes." He couldn't help the small frown at the mention of the main cause of Kit's weakness.

Sporadically she would mention that she wasn't feeling well—a headache here, an upset stomach there—and within at most an hour but more commonly a few minutes she would fall prey to the convulsions and excruciating pain that would leave her unable to move around well for a while.

His frown dissapeared as Kit's face lit up and she smiled, her amber eyes brightening. "Thank you so much!" She felt like hugging the man in a split second of spontaneity—but thankfully stifled the compulsion, instead clasping her hands in front of her chest as she straightened in surprise and happiness. "I'll go get ready." She nearly hopped up, filled with energy and excited for the outing as she quickly made her way to her room. She still struggled with the garments, especially the corset which seemed to fight her at every turn.

She slipped on the various layers, looking between the two dresses that the masked man had given her. The first was the striped grey and light blue gown—for it was a one piece garment—the other a dark blue and green plaid dress, which came in a separate skirt and bodice. The redhead still caught herself calling it a dress no matter how many times the phantom corrected her, and privately knew she couldn't think of the article of clothing as anything other than a dress. The second dress was new to her as she had received it from the phantom whilst incapacitated and hadn't felt like trying it, but she supposed that she should at least try it on, wishing for something different than the one she had been wearing on any day she was mobile long enough to get dressed. Kit also made the smart decision to slip on her stockings and the black, slightly-heeled button-up shoes that Erik had gotten her but were mostly left forgotten. They fit, but she found her smallest toe detested the dainty footwear. She could bear it, if she actually let herself get used to it. She mainly went barefoot here, not having the patience or energy for the teeny buttons that fastened the ankle-high boots onto her feet.

She put on the separate skirt after that, the folds of the plaid fabric smoothing easily over her petticoats. The slight bustle in the back was a bit more voluminous than her other dress, but it wasn't cumbersome. It had black simple lace trimming the hem, sleeves, collar, and bottom of the bodice and bustle along with inch-wide black ribbon. She pulled the top on and buttoned all the little shiny black buttons up the front, wishing for the easy fashions of her time as an absent thought.

She went to the small vanity in the room and brushed her hair once more, biting her hair as she looked at it. Should she put it up? She looked at the pins and the like that the phantom had apparently put on the vanity during her stay but hesitated. She vaguely recalled something about wearing hair down in public— _'Respectable ladies don't do this, but at the same time long hair was seen as feminine and desirable. Typical Victorian Era...'_ To her efforts, she did attempt to put her hair up, but it just refused to stay. She pulled the pins from her hair and ran her fingers through it to smooth the natural curls and waves as the phantom knocked at the door.

"Mademoiselle?"

"Coming," She chimed, excited to see the opera house above, terribly curious about it.

Erik stood with his cloak on, looking down at her. He led her outside his home, to a small boat with a pole extending down. Once they had gotten into the main passages through the twisting, turning waterlogged passages that connected to the lake the masked man turned to Kit, dim light from the lantern the only source of illumination.

"You must hold onto my cloak and be silent, mademoiselle. Not a peep. I will tell you when it is safe to speak. Do you understand?" Kit nodded eagerly, and the phantom held the edge of his cloak to her, which she accepted gratefully, as he turned the lantern down to nearly be completely out. It was of little use to her eyes, it too dim to see behind the phantom, as well as it being so little light that she could maybe only see a few feet, at most. She had no doubts he could walk the path without a lantern, however.

Kit's head hurt from the twisting, turning passages. They grew wider, and then so thin she had issues slipping through, the creak and click and clack of mechanisms heard in the near darkness her only cue, as well as her host's quiet murmurs to step higher or that there was a drop that they were passing through different doors and or traps. She could never attempt this on her own, or with so little light...

They eventually reached the Opera house, which seemingly was starting to wake. Erik lead her to the main room, letting her peek out through a grate, giving a small smile at her wide, wondering eyes.

"You may speak. Quietly," He said in amusement.

"It's...Beautiful," Kit breathed, dazzled by the splendor and all of the intricate figures carved, the statues decorating the place leafed in gold.

Erik's eyes glittered in amusement as he managed to coax his house guest from the sight of the lavish foyer, and towards the main theater area. He let her into box five ahead of him, and once he had cleared the way he let her stand and look around. Her eyes were wide and bright with awe, the large stage below empty and framed by the thick red curtains. The decorations in gold and the painted domed ceiling above caught her eye, all until the chandelier.

It had already been lit for the day it seemed, and though she could smell the slight odor of the gas that was used it was not anything that would give her a headache, like she had thought that the old gas lighting would have. The glass decorations caught the light in a breathtaking way, and Erik smiled beside her. "Stunning, isn't it?" He asked casually. "The gas lighting used here is much better than the old way of candles, at least, for stage use."

"It's a lot brighter, right?" Kit asked, eyes devouring the sights.

Erik nodded, and finally managed to get her to come with him, slipping along the catwalks. She loved seeing the opera house, and the face she loved it so was pleasing to the man. She showed no sign of wanting to run, keeping up with him and her feet falling quietly as she could get them to.

He showed her around the catwalks, it a maze of wooden slats, chains, ropes and sand bags among other things.

"Where is the master of the flies?" Kit looked around, suddenly realizing the missing presence of someone she thought for sure would be up here, even at this hour.

"Hmph... Joseph Buquet is the master of the flies in this opera house." Erik's lips curled in disgust. "He is a drunkard and is regularly late to get here, but he will be here soon enough." He led her away after he heard a noise, a finger to his lips. She could hear people coming too after a few seconds. Erik led her downstairs and slipped through so many passages her head spun, at times having to cross hallways—which explained sightings of him, she realized.

After showing her where the costuming was done and kept he decided it was time to go back to box five as he could hear the orchestra beginning to tune their instruments. Kit agreed and he approached a panel on the wall, fingertips sliding along the base of a sconce that held a simple candle.

 _Click..._

Nothing.

 _Click, click, click..._

His brows furrowed and Kit stiffened as she heard far off sounds of heeled footsteps. The masked man gestured towards the opposite wall with a quiet whisper, almost a mere mouthing of the words, of "There's one we can use along that wall, but it's a dead end," She instantly understood why he would not want to use that one except in an emergency. Kit getting the hint and she began feeling around in the same areas underneath the sconces along the opposite wall, heart thudding in her chest. Erik swore under his breath and quickly slid a small metal tool kept in a holster on his wrist when he went out and about and began trying to quickly go past the busted switch. There was a click but the footsteps were around the corner- Erik had no choice, as his and Kit's eyes met, as he slipped into the secret passage between the walls and shut it just as a salt-and-pepper haired woman rounded the corner, holding a bucket with some dirty water and a rag sloshing around.

"Oh! My goodness! What're you doin' here? I though' all the people here for auditions were took to'a warm-up room." The maid frowned, her slightly rotten teeth showing as she did.

"Oh! I ah...got lost," Kit covered, though the woman seemed to need convincing. Her mind raced but she managed to look sheepish instead of panicked. "I was following behind the last person and I got my skirt caught on a nail from the baseboard. By the time I managed to get it free I'd lost the group."

The maid seemed to buy it. "Yeh, the nails can catch'n rip yer skirts if yeh aren't careful. Here, this way." The maid started to lead Kit away, and it was all she could do to glance back, and see a glimmer of golden brown from the false wall that cracked open silently behind the maid's turned back. Kit lost sight of where Erik was and had no choice but to follow the maid, otherwise she was liable to be escorted outside the opera house, and then she would be in some real trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

**Loup Égaré**

 **Authoress' Note:** I decided to post another chapter today both because I had the drive to, and PhantomFan01 reviewed so quickly that I wanted to put up some more to make up for the long absence.

 **Rating:** M (Warnings in first Chapter)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own POTO.

* * *

The phantom closed the false panel and gave a sigh, shutting his eyes. He did not know why but this bothered him. To distract himself he raised his lantern and used the thin metal tool he held to pry away the thin panel of wood hiding the mechanism and protecting it from the inside. _'It's...Broken? How did it break like this? Unless...someone broke it.'_ His eyes narrowed at the thought. He would have to check as many of the passages, traps and mechanisms as possible. His mind then turned to the current dilemma of his house guest being separated from him.

 _'She will run,'_ His mind warned him. _'Run run run away from the darkness and into the world of light.'_

Erik did the only thing he could at the moment and headed to box five slowly, resigning himself to watching his house guest leave, if she didn't manage to excuse herself beforehand and get out of the Opera house.

 **XxXxX**

 _'I need to get back to Erik...'_

Kit followed behind the maid, fidgeting slightly and trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. She tried to find a place to slip away but the maid was particularly insistent at making sure she got where "She needed to go".

 _'I have to play along for now.'_ Kit resigned herself. _'The first opportunity I get...I'm gone. I could probably find the switch for the passage in the catwalks but...Buquet will probably be there.'_ The redhead shuddered. That option wasn't viable. _'If I can get back to near the costume storage, then...maybe. I'd try to go up to box five but who am I kidding? They would notice for sure if someone went poking around there, and I doubt I'd get near it.'_

Kit entered a room with a multitude of other women and some men. Most looked quite comfortable or at least like they knew each other, only a few—like her—were displaced. A plump, redheaded woman with a small pampered dog in her arms and a few others standing by her, including a large black haired man, eyed Kit when she entered.

"Foun' another one, Monsieur Reyer." The maid practically pushed Kit forward. "Got los' from the group, she says."

Reyer, with his bowler-like hat eyed her as he sat at the piano. "Hmph. You were almost late, mademoiselle. We will not tolerate tardiness, do you understand?"

The redhead in expensive clothes scoffed and laughed mockingly behind her hand to her male companion, who gave a scoff of his own.

"Amateur," He muttered not too subtly to the redhead, and Kit was hit with a bolt of recognition. Carlotta, and Piangi. She recognized Reyer easily, but a few of the people in the room she had no idea who they were. Likely, with Piangi and Carlotta here, they would be given smaller parts or be forced to go after lesser roles.

"Now that we are all here, let's begin, shall we?" Reyer called, and gestured to bring them all closer to the piano. "All right, repeat after me, in tune with the piano..."

Kit automatically found herself adopting the proper posture, back straight, feet slightly settled apart, knees relaxed and not locked, though she hesitated on opening her mouth when everyone else started the Do-Re-Mi warm-up.

"Mademoiselle, do you want to try out or not or will you be leaving?" Reyer stopped abruptly with a discordant hammering on the keys, glaring at Kit. Carlotta giggled behind her fan. "You obviously have some form of training with your posture. Now, will you be singing today or leaving?"

"I am sorry monsieur." Kit answered quickly, heart hammering as everyone's attention was on her. "I will be singing." The bottom of her stomach dropped out as the words left her. _'I haven't sung in...years,'_ She realized.

The maestro gave a sharp nod. "All right, from the top then."

Once the warm-ups were done pieces were passed out and Kit felt her stomach sink even more at the title of 'Hannibal', even as she flipped to where Reyer told them to, to ensure that their voices would mix together and to get rid of anyone who was out of tune or who could not read music, as well as finish up the warm-ups. That way lesser parts could be given if the parts the people there to audition for were taken by others. _'So this is where we're at, huh...'_ Things would begin to happen so quickly, she knew.

 **XxXxX**

Kit's palms were sweaty and she felt her heart hammering when Reyer gave a huff, having dismissed a few people already to be escorted out by a maid, but not Kit herself. "That's good enough, I suppose. Follow me, and do not get lost." He gave a glance to Kit, who averted her eyes at his meaningful stare. Once at the stage Kit was trying to look around for some way out of this, when suddenly several people stepped back. She remained in front with a few, and of course, Carlotta.

With dawning horror as she listened to Reyer speak, she realized she had missed him asking whoever wanted to go for a smaller nameless part or join in the chorus to step back. A few went before, Carlotta having gone first and who looked very smug, having sung "Think of Me". Kit's ears hurt and she had winced and ground her teeth, the woman's pacing ostentatiously around the stage with her fake smile setting her on edge.

"Mademoiselle," Reyer called impatiently. Kit snapped back to attention.

"Y-Yes Monsieur?" She stammered.

"Your audition. I trust you have your song memorized? It is a requirement." Kit nodded, though she felt her throat constrict. _'Shitshitshit what do I do?!'_

"Then Mademoiselle, please." He gestured closer to the piano, Kit nearly tripping on her way over. Carlotta, who had taken a seat in the chairs that had been brought onstage for the moment, laughed again behind her fan and whispered to Piangi who gave a laugh as well. "What will you be auditioning with, then?"

"T...Think of Me, from the Opera..." Kit spoke without thinking. It was one of the few things she knew, that would not be from another time or one of the phantom's songs themselves. Reyer's eyebrows nearly vanished into his hairline and he looked at Kit for a long time.

"...As you wish." He seemed amused, now. Kit felt like she was going to faint as she looked out at the sea of seats, could feel more than hear Carlotta's scathing scoffs.

"Look at the poor dear," The Italian woman smiled mockingly to her lover, nearly purring. "She looks like she's'a going to faint!"

Kit tried to ignore her and when Reyer asked what key, she bit at her lip and whispered that she wanted it in a key, but that she would hum the first notes to him, and asked him if he could derive it from there. With an impatient sigh he nodded and she hummed a few notes, and he adjusted the key of the piece. While it was lower than Carlotta's by a bit, it wasn't by too much.

 **XxXxX**

The phantom straightened in his seat at the turn of events occurring down on the stage. He wasn't even aware that Kit could sing, but here she was about to audition with the aria, one that Carlotta had just sung and sung horribly, to his ears.

 _'What is she doing...?'_

 **XxXxX**

The redhead could hear her own blood rushing through her ears as she stepped away from the piano a bit, eyes flickering up to box five. "Will two bars introduction be sufficient?" Reyer asked, very unimpressed by the girl, and she drew her gaze away from where Erik hopefully was. A spike of anxiety hit her at the thought. _'Actually hopefully he isn't there... I wonder why the thought bothers me so much? Maybe it's because he's such a perfectionist...'_

"Y-yes," She squeaked slightly as he cleared his throat impatiently. "Thank you."

Her chest heaved as she drew in breath, making sure she breathed from her stomach. She felt like throwing up, hoping desperately she could remember the lyrics, trying to remember the order that Carlotta had just sung them in. _"T-Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye,"_ She sucked in a sharp breath, voice trembling. While it was out of use and clearly even with the warm up she had not sung for awhile, it held a sweetness and strength lurking behind the nervousness. She was no primadonna, but her voice was not bad: in fact, given time and practice, it's true potential could be used.

" _Remember me once in a while, Please promise me you'll try._ _When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free...If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me."_ Her mind latched onto the music and the nervous, breathy tone her voice had begun with started to dissipate, her voice getting stronger as she focused on the sound she was giving out, eyes shutting as her shaking lessened. _"We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, But if you can still remember,  
Stop and think of me..."_

Carlotta glared at the younger redhead, snapping her fan shut, face in a scowl.

" _Think of all the things we've shared and seen  
Don't think about the way things might have been..."_ The redhead sucked in a breath, nearly having run out of breath, forgetting to breathe as she now shook a little with the fact that she was getting it right. _"Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned...Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind! Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do. There will never be a day when I won't think of you!"_ Kit's throat felt dry but she licked her lips as the small break took place, and she forced herself to breathe for the last verse

 _"We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but please promise me that sometimes you will think..."_ Kit paused and drew in the largest breath she could.

 _'I can't do this, my voice is going to crack—!'_ She thought desperately.

She led into the ending, voice hopping lightly from note to note. Her higher notes were clear as a bell and sweet, while her lower notes, while sweet were stronger—she was obviously a mezzo soprano but more comfortable in the lower range. She hit the last low note and prepared herself for the high note. Trembling she hit it—not as impressive as Carlotta's, and weak but she kept it on pitch, kept her voice from cracking and did not go sharp as the primadonna did. _"Ahhhhh-of me!"_

Her chest heaved and she tried to ignore Carlotta's cackling and primping that "She was glad it was over," to the people sitting in the chairs on the stage to the side.

"Thank you, mademoiselle." Reyer was giving her strange look, but she could see the man was in thought. After a few minutes of him writing something down, he stood in front of the piano with his notes, called them forward and out of the chairs, and began giving out the parts. Of course Piangi and Carlotta got the leading roles—it was really a formality for them to audition, it was easy to see. People were called up and then dismissed, allowed to leave without an escort apparently since it was easy to find their way out.

"Mademoiselle Masagobi," Reyer called her forward, after dismissing another young lady who looked upset at being relegated to the chorus. He gave her a hard stare for a moment, though Kit held it. "Your voice is not bad. Out of practice, clearly," He acknowledged, the redhead nodding. "But not bad. How much training do you have exactly, mademoiselle?"

Kit swallowed and found it best to use the truth. "I had vocal lessons from when I was eight until I was sixteen, so...eight years of training. I'm twenty-three, Monsieur." She answered his questions, saving him the trouble of having to ask.

"You retained your training well enough...You have a strong mezzo soprano range, we could use you in the chorus in the alto part." Kit bit at her lip but was relieved that that was all he was offering. This, she thought, she could easily just not come back for. She doubted she would be missed.

"Yes, I would like that very much Monsieur. Thank you." He nodded and, since she was an outsider and it didn't happen that often, he advised her when she was to be there each morning save Sundays. "I expect to see you tomorrow, mademoiselle." She gave a jerky nod and felt dismissed as he gathered his score from the piano on the stage and promptly left. Once alone she waved nearly frantically up at box five, trying to gesture that she was going back towards the costume department. _'Please let him have gotten the hint!'_

Now was her chance!

She slipped into the backstage area once he was out of view, acting as if she had to fiddle with her shoe to buy her more time. She heard a creak above and bit back a curse, glancing upwards. Not Erik, she could only guess by the round-gutted form she saw up there in the shadows.

 _'Shit, Buquet...'_

She had no choice but to slip into the back hallways from the stage. Heart hammering, the redhead slipped through the hallways as quietly as possible until she got near the costume storage and found the hallway next to it that held the passage that Erik had brought her through on his way to show her where the costumes were kept. They had been unable to escape this way, as the footsteps had come from this direction. She didn't know how he could keep which passages went where straight, it a convoluted mess to her current understanding. She looked both ways through the hallway and then pressed her hands along the wall, particularly down near the baseboard and up towards the sconces that held candles, along any and all cracks in the paint.

 _'I just have to find the mechanism out here, and then it'll let me into the little room that connects to some of the main passages between the walls...If I can figure it out, since we came into the room, not tried to go back out this way.'_ She couldn't remember how this mechanism worked, or what kind of the many it was... grasping the arm of the sconce she nearly crowed in relief as it moved a slight bit and the panel on the wall opened slightly. She slipped in as she heard footsteps not too far off and she closed the door, biting her tongue hard as she pinched her fingers in it before getting it closed.

Now she was in a small room, perhaps the size of a closet. _'I just have to find the mechanism to get out of here.'_ She thought to keep herself calm, as she slid her hands over the walls slowly, methodically looking for it in the near darkness. After long, terrible minutes the dark got to her and she could not help her breathing deepening.

She couldn't find the small button or put pressure on the right spot. She reached up on her tip-toes but came nowhere near the height that the masked man could, the mechanism could likely be high up. Heart hammering and leaping into her throat as she realized she couldn't go that way Kit turned the other way and tried to leave that way, though she froze when she heard heavy footsteps on the other side.

"Heh...Found one," The thick, gruff voice of a man came. Whatever he was trying to do, it wasn't good as thumps were heard on the wall, scaring her and making her step back. Kit shrank back in the small, four foot closet-like room into a corner then, pressing in as tight as she could. She shook slightly as she heard metal scraping against metal, and she slid silently to sit down, wrapping her arms around her knees as she stared forward, towards the noise of someone trying to get in here.

Had someone seen her?

She held her knees tightly as the scraping got louder and she could hear when the metal tool the man used slid off and dug into the wall, her flinching. She buried her face into her knees to quiet her noises and bit the fabric of her skirt as her eyes welled with tears of fear, noises getting louder. She could have sworn she heard a tiny spring-like noise but she wasn't sure, with the horrendous scraping.

A long time passed until more footsteps were heard.

"What are you doing?" A woman's voice came. "They are requiring you on the stage."

"Oh, eh...was fixin' this, it was comin' loose." The man chuckled unconvincingly, though the two sets of feet did go away.

Kit got up and knew where the mechanism to get out was.

 _Click..._

 _click..._

 _click._

"Oh shit," She breathed, hyperventilating and after frantically trying to find her way out from either side found she either couldn't find or reach the mechanism on one side, and it seemed the rough-voiced man on the other side of the wall had broken the one that led out of this tiny, stuffy room.

Kit, after a long while of fruitless attempts, slid dizzily down another wall, having lost her orientation in this darkness, and she curled her arms around her knees and cried frustrated, frightened tears, hiccuping quietly. She was stuck—And she could only hope against everything that Erik would find her here, that he had not just abandoned her.

 **XxXxX**

Erik found himself feeling horribly lonely once more, unsure when he had stopped feeling the gnawing feeling. He had left when Reyer had offered Kit a position in the chorus and she accepted, which while the pay was not spectacular, she could board in the Opera House if she wished, though the surprise and relief for Reyer's offer was burned into his mind.

 _'She will be fine.'_ He thought roughly, slipping through the passages he knew so well. _'She is a creature of the light. Why did I ever think she enjoyed keeping me company, did not simply remain there to buy her time until she could find some way to not rely on me?'_ He squashed the hurt, squashed the worry about her painful episodes. He took this, her acceptance of the offer Reyer gave her, to be her escape from his hell, and he would let her go...Not understanding the mistake he had made, having missed her desperate waving and gesturing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Loup** **Égaré**

 **Authoress' Note:** This chapter has been a long time coming, and it's fought against me relentlessly. I struggled with first of all finding a proper end to it, and even further than that my muse for writings such as this has been fleeting. Hopefully this is a decent continuation of this story for you all to read.

 **Rating:** M (Ratings in first chapter)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own POTO.

* * *

Erik awoke and began drowsily readying himself from the day, going to his guest's room—and he was met with an empty room after his usual habit of knocking before opening the door. his stomach gave a lurch as reality struck, sobering the tall, thin man.

Right.

He didn't have a guest anymore.

He lowered his hand and retreated to his music room after grabbing a small breakfast. He had work to do, after all, in overseeing his opera house.

 **XxXxXxXxX**

Kit groaned dryly as she peeled her sore eyes open, whimpering as she was once again faced with darkness. _'Does it even matter if I have my eyes open or shut in this fucking room?'_ Her hands ached from trying to pry at the boards she could feel, and her ankle throbbed—she'd tried to kick the passageway open.

She didn't care if someone found out about the passages, she wanted out of this hell. She'd tried yelling and calling out for help but it had been to no avail, and now her throat hurt badly and her voice was rough, barely a whisper.

 _ **'He'll never come back for you, never realize you did not simply run away. The only chance that you have of being found is as a rotting, stinking corpse.'**_

Kit curled up more tightly, rocking herself in the dark as she convinced herself that there hadn't been a flash of yellow eyes. _'I hate the dark hate it hate hate hate the fucking dark,'_ The thing in her laughed at her and her eyes burned as tears welled and she squeezed her eyes shut—though...were they?

The thing whispered to her right, _**'Maybe they are,'**_ Then laughed

 _ **'Maybe they're not!'**_ To her right.

 _'Erik...please...Where are you...? How long have I been here?'_

 **XxXxXxXxX**

The phantom finished his meager portion of food, it thick tasteless paste in his mouth, and he made his way to the much quicker passageway he normally took—He had been unable to bring Kit this way, as it involved scaling a wall that was nearly at a 90 degree angle with small hand and footholds. An easy feat for him, but he knew for anyone else it would be a trial, especially for a woman in the clothes propriety demanded they wear.

He forced his mind from her and traveled through as few passageways that he had been through with her in tow, angry with himself as worry and curiosity reared it's head. The first rehearsals, he knew, were always intensely dull, and he spent most of the time within the hollow column, merely listening and wincing as wrong notes were hit, hesitation on part of the music and lyrics was had in abundance, and he had to listen to Carlotta's horrid, horrid prattling.

He found it odd that he did not hear the voice of the redhead—though he reasoned sharply to himself, perhaps she blended her voice well enough to be unnoticeable.

He could pick out his dear Christine's voice—and he was at last able to relax, closing his eyes and letting her sweet angelic voice, in what snippets he could glean, relieve him of the frustration or anger. She was such a good student, had a voice he adored—he adored her. She was getting to the age that he was considering helping giving her assistance to get into the spotlight. As long as the current primadonna kept on lingering and preening in a role so ill suited to her, his Christine would never get her chance to let all of their hard work shine, never get to share her wondrous voice with the world...

Now that simply would not do.

He had to make plans.

His golden brown eyes opened and gleamed.

Oh yes...

he would have to make plans.

The rehearsal—He scoffed, as if such a meeting full of chaos could be considered a rehearsal—broke for a late lunch, Reyer red in the face after the frustrations and everyone hungry. He was surprised to see that Bouquet had abandoned his post already, but he supposed he had probably ran low on alcohol already.

As he made his way along the catwalks silently the chatter of the ballet rats below drew his attention, though it was usually so dull any of it he caught normally bored him to tears.

"Did you hear her crying last night?" One blonde ballet girl whispered to the other.

"No but I heard that it gave some of the other girls a fright. Madame Giry had problems with the younger girls this morning who were too excited to pay attention... Who do you think it was?" A brunette asked.

"A ghost of course, crying out for the love that left her and never returned to marry her," A younger ballet girl sighed dreamily.

"Oh please, a phantom of the opera, now a lady ghost longing for her lost love?" One of the more skeptical stagehands scoffed. And the girls began arguing that no, it had to be a lovelorn ghost haunting the opera halls.

Erik shook his head. _'Superstitious fools...'_ It was all too easy to capitalize on such people. He did wonder, though, what had sparked such stories. _'Probably some ballet rat crying about something all night long,'_ He sighed and continued on his way, hearing Bouquet start to climb up to the catwalks. He decided on going to go check on his Christine, as she ate in the room most of the girls ate in.

 **XxXxXxXxX**

 _Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr-rr..._

Kit startled from her exhausted dozing, grimacing as her stomach squeezed. She was so very hungry, not knowing how long it had been.

 _ **'Needy stomach, greedy stomach,'**_ The thing laughed at her. _**'Throat dry as a desert and eyes burning like hot sand on a beach,'**_ The thing singsonged nonsensically in her ear.

"Shut up," Kit croaked.

 _ **'So useless, can't save herself, never save herself. Not from the dark, not from her mind, not from groping scratching hands and things that push in and hurt-'**_

"Shut up!" Kit's hands tightened in her hair, hair pulled so taut it ached and hurt but it was something to ground to other than the dark and the hunger pangs and the thirst and the horrible voice—

 _ **'You fear is delicious,'**_ The thing growled. _**'I wonder if the hunger will consume you, or maybe you will you try to eat yourself? Blood to quench your thirst, flesh to appease your greedy belly,'**_

" _Shut up,"_ Kit whispered, burying her face into her knees, hands trembling as her nails dug into the material of her skirts, squeezing her eyes shut—though were they shut, the thing whispered to her right, maybe they are, it laughed to her left, and she felt tears sting her sore eyes as she could almost feel it's hot breath on her face, feel it's coarse fur run along her hand.

 _'Erik...Please...I need help...'_

" _ **Erik, Erik, Erik! Erik Erik ERIK!"**_ The thing gleefully howled into her ears, making her slap her hands over them as they rang, the ringing growing and growing in her ears until the world shifted and pain filled her nerves, her ravaged vocal chords only letting out a hoarse whisper of a scream.

 **XxXxXxXxX**

 _Beep...Beep...Beep..._

"Unrespon...Is not... ...treatment...omatose...Sir, we don't k..."

Kit hated the way her body felt so very, very heavy. She felt her hand being squeezed and she heard a familiar, but distant voice.

"Soon...e'll be...rried. Just have...ish up..."

That deep voice made her feel sick. She tried to move her hand away but her body refused to listen. She felt even more nauseous when she felt soft warmth against her knuckles and heard low laughter, breath caressing her skin unpleasantly before the sensations leeched away, leaving her with no thoughts, feeling nothing once more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Loup Égaré**

 **Authoress' Note:** This was originally part of Chapter 7, but it didn't quite feel right to leave there, and it felt like the previous chapter dragged on needlessly with this included. I also ended up rewriting the beginning three times to get it how I wanted, it fought me pretty hard. I hope you enjoy!

 **Rating:** M (Warnings in first chapter)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own POTO. **  
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The masked man crept silently through the faster passageways down to his home once the rehearsal—he scoffed, if a chaotic meeting such as that could be called that—had adjourned for the evening. Erik retrieved some tools and some spare springs and parts he would need to repair the broken mechanisms around the Opera House and stowed them away in a tool pouch at his waist. Quickly he made his way towards the only thing he had been looking forward to all day.

The room he was headed to wasn't used by many of the people who lived within the walls of the Opera House, and was not often used by those who chose to come to it. Though not quite a chapel, it served it's purpose well enough with candles on small tables, paintings of religious figures and crosses adorning the small room.

Right on schedule his dear Christine came down the stairs, lit a candle and bowed her head to pray.

Erik let himself enjoy the sight of her beautiful blonde curls and the sight of her thick eyelashes closing over her blue eyes in the flickering candlelight for a moment. He then pulled away from the peephole he normally looked through at his protege and gave her privacy while she finished her prayers.

Once he was sure she had finished, he opened his eyes and looked through the viewing hole once more. _"Christine, Christine..."_ He crooned softly to gain her attention once she had turned to light a candle for her Father.

" _Angel of Music, guide and guardian,"_ She returned after a moment. He could hear her smile in her voice even before she turned towards where he hid behind a painting of an angel and he could not help the smile on his own lips.

" _Christine,"_ He felt, for the moment, that everything was as right as things could be in the world as they progressed with their normal lesson.

Later on he sent a sleepy Christine to bed, knowing his student needed her rest.

Erik began working on checking the many mechanisms, starting near where the 'chapel' lay, up towards the halls and stage. He went along, fixing some, making a mental list of what he would need to procure to fix and otherwise reinforce the others. He worked well into the night, the Opera house silent, and he knew aside from some mice and other such pests, he must be the only one awake.

As he fixed the countless mechanisms to his passages and escape routes, he grew angrier and angrier as he thought on who could possibly be doing this. This had to be an attempt to catch him out of hiding, to expose him or possibly an attempt to catch him out to rid the world of him for good.

He calmed as he ran his hand over the catgut lasso tucked away in his cloak, his golden brown eyes flashing in the dim light of his lantern.

Whoever was sabotaging his getaway routes was going to pay. They were playing a dangerous game, one that Erik knew with a grim grin, that he would win.

Pulling his hand away he continued his work. Near the end he only had a few springs and other bits left, none of which in particularly good shape. _'They will only be of temporary use,'_ He concluded easily, noting they were ones he had scavenged from various sources.

Erik considered his options as he dimmed the light of his lantern, eyes easily cutting through the darkness.

He could temporarily fix a few more passageway's mechanisms, or he could return to his abode and return to fix them once he had procured more parts.

After a good bit of consideration he sighed. _'It is better to have temporary use of the passages than possibly be caught because I have not fixed one.'_

His decision made, he made his way through the passages to the one near the costume storage. Pushing away thoughts of his former house-guest, he fixed the one that had nearly gotten him caught a little over a day and a half ago, it approaching dawn. He could hear a few occupants stirring in the Opera House, and knew he would have to cease his work soon enough.

Once that was fixed he went to the same passage across the hall that he and the redhead had exited from, and moved the sconce.

 _Cli-thunk..._

He frowned.

 _Clic-thunk...click-thunk..._

 _'They must have found this one as recently as yesterday or the day before,'_ He thought wearily. This was proving to be quite irritating, but with a thin metal tool he was able to open the passage, unfortunately having to mangle the mechanism within. _'Another thing to replace,'_ He stepped into the small, dark closet-like room and turned the lantern up once he had shut the hidden door, and began inspecting what he had just mangled.

 _'It will not open before I replace the entire thing,'_ He concluded, angry at the fact he'd had to do so. Whoever was going around damaging what he'd put in place was apparently getting better at doing so.

He turned around, ready to retreat to his abode for a small meal and some rest, when the sour, vile scent of vomit reached his nose. Looking down he froze as he was confronted with the sight of his former house-guest, curled into a ball and pressed into a corner.

He hoped that she was breathing and knelt down, grasping her wrist as he searched for a pulse, bile burning at the back of his throat. She was so very pale, her skin cold and clammy—and there. Weak, sluggish, but definitely there.

His shoulders sank in relief before he noted her broken fingernails, the way her eyelids were irritated and a bit puffy, the thick tear-stains on her too-pale cheeks. She'd apparently had another episode and now sported a bruise on her hand from where it had flung against the wall.

The gossip of the ballet rats struck him then.

She had been here, trapped in this tiny room—the mechanism out of her reach to escape—crying, panicked and unable to do anything about her predicament. Even if someone had heard her thumping or yelling about, the superstitious fools would have thought she was a ghost or something as foolish.

She had tried to return to him, had not run away into the world of the light, he realized with a sickening lurch of his stomach. _'She tried to come back,'_ He leaned her up, checking over her to ensure she was not horribly injured, and felt guilt gnaw at his insides as he saw the small amount of sick she'd thrown up on herself and the floor, her stomach having been mostly empty. Her lips were pale and cracked terribly, looking awful and painful, and there were dark, unhealthy smudges underneath her eyes.

As he moved her her eyes peeled open, her wincing and giving a pained gasp at the burning light of the lantern. She whimpered and reached for him, fingers weakly grasping at his suit jacket and cloak. "Er...ik..." She croaked out, the very act of speaking seeming painful. She felt so cold yet he felt her forehead and found an unhealthy warmness there. She seemed unable to keep focus, and seemed dizzy.

He did not pull away from her as she trembled, sore eyes stinging with tears as she gave a sob, choking as she clung to him.

He was solid, she could feel the warmth his body gave off, could hear his breaths and could see his wide golden-brown eyes looking down at her, his bright white mask making her cry in relief. "You're...You're real, you fo-ound me," She seemed a bit delirious. He could not say it was only the hunger and thirst she surely must be feeling, having been trapped in this tiny, dark, stuffy room...

Her bloodshot eyes looked up at him, barely cracking open with the light. " _Please_ ," Her voice cracked. "Please...I-I...I want to go back...Ple-"She began coughing, her throat still raw from crying and whatever else she had tried while trapped. He supported her to keep her from falling back to the ground. "P-Please I want to go back, don't leave-leave me alone, please..." She mumbled, reddened eyes welling with tears that slowly made their way onto her cheeks. She kept mumbling, begging that she wanted to go back, and he could have sworn that she begged to go back home.

He did not know if she had the correct place in mind, but he knew he had to take her back to his abode, horrified at the knowledge that he could have very easily left her in this place and not discovered her until she was only a rotting husk. Without a word he gathered her into his arms as her mumbles petered out and were replaced with shallow, somewhat labored breathing, eyes closing and her eyes barely moving beneath the lids, and he began the trek down to his home by the dark lake.


End file.
